The Freedom of Navid Leahy Page 2

“But why take it out on me?” Navid said.

  “He shouldn’t do that, I agree,” Gavin said. “Just try to see things from his perspective. Which shouldn’t be too hard—you two came from the same place in the world.”

  “Yes, sir,” Navid said halfheartedly.

  The two sat in uncomfortable silence until Gavin asked, “Do you like the Kilkeer saga?”

  “Yes, but can you spend longer on it?” Navid said eagerly. “In ten minutes, we barely get to hear anything.”

  “What happened in the saga yesterday, Navid?”

  “Kilkeer fought the Zunft, I mean, bandits,” Navid said. “He was about to slay the lot of them single-handedly.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to finish the scene,” Gavin said. “Kilkeer never actually fought them. He saw that they were motivated by fear, not selfishness, and he helped them find safe passage out of the forest and away from the giant.”

  “Oh,” Navid said, disappointed. “But they all had their swords out, ready to kill each other. What happened?”

  “Kilkeer was clever,” Gavin said. “Instead of fighting, he spotted something that he could use to his advantage. He used his talents instead of force.”

  “What happens to Kilkeer after that?” Navid asked.

  “I’ll tell more tomorrow,” Gavin said.

  “Please!” Navid begged. “Does he find the Giant of Red Lake?”

  “Not right then,” Gavin said.

  “Just give me a hint. Who does he fight next?”

  “No one. He’s lured into a life of complacency.”

  “What does that mean?” Navid asked.

  “He spends more time satisfying his desires than pursuing the Giant of Red Lake.”

  “Who lures him?” Navid demanded. “And for how long?”

  “By the people of Nordefell Falls,” Gavin said. “The saga says he lived among them for a hundred years.”

  “What!” Navid exploded. The image of his hero being duped was too much. “How could that happen? He’s the strongest cottager the world has ever seen!”

  “It wouldn’t be a good tale of everything went right for Kilkeer,” Gavin said. “And remember, Navid, no matter what the cottagers feel about the saga, it is just a story.”

  “I suppose,” Navid said. “I’ve just never heard the details before. I knew he killed the giant, but the rest is new to me.”

  “Brian doesn’t tell you the saga?” Gavin asked.

  Navid shrugged, embarrassed.

  “Well, you’ll hear more of it tomorrow,” Gavin said. “And remember, it’s not a simple story. And I’m not telling it to you for simple reasons.”

  “All right, Mr. Baine,” Navid said.

  “Let’s take different paths to East Ash to avoid any patrols,” Gavin said. “Not that I could keep up with you, anyway.”

  “No one can,” Navid said, and sprang to his feet, eager to go hear Michael speak.

  “Wait, Navid,” Gavin said. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a silver coin. He flipped it to Navid, who missed catching it, and it fell near his boots. He reached down and picked it up. It was a heavy coin with the face of one of the old, jowly chief administrators on it.

  “It’s worth too much,” Navid said. “I can’t take it.”

  “It’s not just payment for bringing the letters today,” Gavin said. “It’s for all the errands that you run. And for being courageous. And for helping me plant my garden. Hauling crates of dirt up here was not easy.”

  Still, Navid hesitated until Gavin said, “You can give it to your mother. Tell her it was your wages from the past year.”

  So Navid pocketed the coin, waved goodbye, and then scaled the drainpipe on the neighboring building. With the sun beating down on his back, he tried to imagine what cleverness had allowed Kilkeer to best his attackers without needing to use his sword at all.

  * * *

  By the time Navid arrived at East Ash Street, throngs of cottagers had already gathered. Michael hadn’t made a public appearance since he started printing his new paper, Henry’s Herald, and people were eager to see their hero once again. The crowd had engulfed the corner and spread up the road to the entrance of East Ash Garden, a community plot where Navid often worked. The garden’s steward, Nova James, wouldn’t be happy with the commotion. She said her seedlings needed peace to grow.

  His friend, Will, waved to him from the edge of the crowd. “Navid! Over here!”

  “This feels like a street party,” Navid said. “I can’t wait to see Michael.”

  Will poked Navid in the arm. “I heard you’re going to fight Aron today.”

  “That’s right,” Navid said. “After today, he’s going to shut his mouth for good.”

  “Huh,” Will said.

  “What?” Navid asked, annoyed by his friend’s lack of enthusiasm for his upcoming battle.

  “You’re gonna get in trouble,” Will said. “With Mr. Baine and your father. What if they don’t let you come to classes anymore?”

  “You think I should just let him call me a traitor? Call my father a—” Navid sputtered. He was too furious to even repeat the insult. Even worse, the possibility of being banned from Mr. Baine’s school was a wrinkle that hadn’t occurred to him before. He loved school, and it would be a disaster to lose the privilege.

  “Speaking of your father—he’s right over there,” Will said, pointing toward the front of the crowd. Brian was near the stone wall that enclosed the community garden.

  “Do you want to come with me when I fight Aron?” Navid asked hopefully.

  “My mother’s here,” Will said. “She’ll make me go home with her.”

  “Navid!” Brian was calling to him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Navid told his friend, and ducked into the crowd as the spectators began to sing a ballad about the Battle for Aeren Island. The familiar tune made Navid’s pulse quicken, and he felt proud that so many of his people had turned out to see Michael.

  “Where’s Mr. Henry—“Navid asked his father, but the crowd roared the answer as the thirty-five-year-old street speaker climbed up on the wall with feline agility. Michael was taller than Navid’s father, and with his shaved head, someone might mistake him for a ruffian until they heard him speak. Once, Katherine joked that Michael didn’t say words during his speeches but instead, he spoke golden coins that the people couldn’t help but gather for themselves.

  “Welcome, brothers and sisters!” Michael called. He surveyed the crowd with a wide smile. His gaze fell on Navid, who was standing just below him near the wall. He crouched down and offered his hand. Navid reached up and took it, his boots scrabbling on the stone wall before he settled down by the feet of the great man himself.

  “Have you looked at Grand Customs House, friends?” Michael said to the now-silent crowd. “I mean, really looked? Seen its gilded windows and felt the yoke of its authoritarian presence? It’s from there that the Zunft take your coin, tell you where you can go and what job you can have. Sure, it’s the Zunftmen in the Chamber with their tailcoats and their soft fingers that make the laws, but it’s from the Grand Customs House that the fist comes down upon us. Well, no more!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, and Navid clapped his hands as hard as anyone else.

  “I am not allowed to write an article expressing my opinion! We can’t own our own homes. Our children have no rights!” Michael laid his hand on Navid’s head, and the crowd cheered even louder. As the speech went on, Navid felt a tug on his trouser cuff. His father motioned for him to jump down. Navid frowned but complied.

  “We thought Hywel was an enlightened man,” Michael continued. “We thought he was going to help us right the injustices—”

  Michael continued talking, but his father crouched down and whispered in Navid’s ear. “Go to the roof of the trade-shop,” he said, pointing to the two-story building on the other side of the street. “Watch the speech from there.”

  “Why, Papa?” Navid protested. />
  “Do. It. Now.” Brian spoke with such emphasis that Navid complied without further questions. He maneuvered through the crowd to the other side of East Ash, ducked into the alley, and took the easy route up the shabby wooden fire escape. When he reached the roof, something in the distance caught his eye. A line of rovers crawled down the road from the Zunft compound on the ridge at the north side of the city. They were still far away, at least. It would take a while for them to traverse the avenues of North Sevenna, even though they were paved compared to the muddy swamps that passed for streets in South Sevenna.

  Navid headed back down to report the rovers to his father even though everyone expected the Zunft would show up eventually—that’s why these speeches were advertised by word of mouth and fairly brief. By the time the noisy rovers roared into the area, everyone was usually long gone. But as he scrambled back over the railing, he saw something that took his breath away. A phalanx of black-uniformed soldiers was amassed on the other side of the Lyone River. At least a hundred soldiers, armed with long guns, descended on the bridges. They would arrive in minutes.

  Navid rushed back toward the East Ash side of the building and leapt up on top of the railing, oblivious to the precariousness of his perch, and began waving his arms frantically. The only person facing his direction was Michael, who saw him immediately and pointed toward him. As if of one mind, the crowd turned and stared up at him.

  “They’re coming!” Navid shouted, surprised how his voice echoed loudly. His words had an instant effect and people scattered quickly. He saw Michael jump down from the wall and gesture frantically to Brian. Navid waited on the roof in case his father tried to find him there. He flopped down on his belly near the edge to watch the soldiers converge on the now-empty street. Navid felt satisfied, like he’s tricked the trickster. The Zunft thought they could leave the rovers behind and sneak up on them on foot, but they weren’t as cunning as the cottagers. Maybe Kilkeer was as outnumbered by the bandits as the cottagers were by the approaching soldiers. Navid decided to forgive the ranger for avoiding the battle with the bandits in lieu of a clever plan.

  Michael and his father appeared behind him. The two men crouched down and watched as the soldiers milled around in the street below.

  “You did good, son,” Brian said softly.

  “We can’t keep running, Brian,” Michael said. He sounded angry, and Navid worried that he’d done something wrong. “Someday soon, we’ll have to stand and fight like men.”

  Brian motioned for them to move to the center of the roof, out of sight from the street, where they talked quietly.

  “You know how I feel, Michael,” Brian said.

  “You’ve done great things for our people,” Michael said. “But they’re quiet things.”

  “I’m a quiet man,” Brian said, laying his hand protectively on Navid’s shoulder.

  Michael glanced down at Navid. “Let’s ask Navid, a young man who represents the future of the cottagers. Should we stand up and fight, son? Or let ourselves be crushed by lesser men?”

  “No need for speeches now, Michael,” Brian said. Now his father sounded angry too.

  But Navid felt honored by Michael’s attention. “It’s like Kilkeer,” he said. He felt his father’s fingers tighten on his shoulder, but he wasn’t sure why. He glanced up for more instructions, but his father’s face was unreadable, so Navid continued. “I mean, Kilkeer knew that he had to fight the giant, to stand up for his people.”

  “Was it that simple, Navid?” Brian asked. “Kilkeer believed he would just walk into the forest and kill the giant. But he spent years finding the right path.”

  “In the end, he slayed the giant,” Navid said.

  “But do you know how he did it, Navid?” Brian asked.

  “Mr. Baine hasn’t gotten that far,” Navid said.

  “In the end, he slayed the giant,” Michael repeated forcefully. “Navid’s right. We’ve done enough cowering. It’s time to face up to our enemies!”

  “Don’t do something rash,” Brian said to Michael. “Think of your family.”

  “This is the time when good men can no longer be idle,” Michael fumed. “You’re a good man, Brian. You must see that I’m right!”

  Brian started to speak and then changed his mind. “Navid, why don’t you head home? Michael and I will stay and watch for a while. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Navid nodded, but he felt confused. Why didn’t his father want to fight? Maybe a face-to-face scrap wasn’t the smartest approach, but not fighting meant the Zunft did whatever they pleased, unchecked. Was his father a coward, just like Aron said? Navid felt ashamed that the thought even crossed his mind. With one last glance at Michael’s angry face, Navid scurried away, but Michael’s words kept echoing in his mind: We’ve done enough cowering! It’s time to face our enemies!

  * * *

  After dodging a patrol of three soldiers, Navid reached the warehouse near Mast Square just as the bells chimed the top of the hour. Navid ducked through the broken slats of the gate and stepped into the shabby courtyard at the heart of what had been a grain dispensary but was now a burned-out husk. His eyes traveled up to the red sun shimmering just above the roof at the far end of the courtyard. The ship was on the other side of that building, and the tops of the masts were silhouetted against the sunset. The wood-and-metal remains of the conveyor connected to the edge of the roof and extended down into a trough that once flowed into to the canal. People had scavenged metal scraps from the conveyor, and the belt itself was long gone. Now just the slanted planks and scaffolding, bowed by rain and heat, remained. With his eyes half-shut against the glare of the sun, Navid squinted at the structure while his hand closed protectively around the coin in his pocket.

  Aron and two of his friends waited near the trough. The other boys didn’t take classes with Mr. Baine, but Navid recognized them from gatherings in his neighborhood. The sandy-haired boy was Shaun, but he didn’t know that other kid’s name. Navid strolled up to them like he had all the time in the world, but he was really assessing Aron’s size. For the first time, Navid noticed how stout he was. Navid had a few inches on him, but Aron looked like he could haul a log up a mountain.

  “I thought maybe you’d bring your Zunft-loving father to hold your hand,” Aron said.

  “Don’t talk about my father,” Navid said.

  “I heard he’s spying on Michael Henry for the Zunft,” Aron said. “They busted up his press because of information from Brian Leahy.”

  “And you brought two of your friends,” Navid said. “You really think three on one is a fair fight?”

  “If you had any friends, you would have brought them,” Aron said. He set his fists like a boxer and stepped toward Navid, who raised his hands in response.

  “This is stupid,” Shaun said unexpectedly. “Remember what happened the last time you were caught fighting, Aron?”

  “Shut up, Shaun,” Aron growled.

  Bolstered by even the slightest hint of an ally, Navid lowered his arms and stepped back.

  “This is stupid,” Navid said. “I don’t want to fight you.”

  “Because you’re a coward,” Aron said.

  “Instead of fighting, let’s make a dare-pact,” Navid said. “If I complete the dare, you’ll shut your mouth about my family. And if I don’t make the dare, I’ll give you this.”

  Navid pulled the silver coin out of his pocket, and the boys gaped at it.

  “Where did you get that?” Aron scoffed. “Payoff from the Zunft?”

  “My wages for a year,” Navid said. With Aron’s family in dire need of money, Navid knew the promise of getting the coin would be more appealing than a fight that might land them all in hot water with their parents.

  “What’s the dare?” Shaun asked.

  “Yeah, it can’t be something easy,” Aron said.

  Navid took a deep breath, knowing that what he was about to say was risky. “I’ll climb the conveyor,” he said.

  Shaun�
�s mouth dropped open while the other two boys turned to consider the rickety, twisted remains behind them.

  Shaun and Aron spoke at the same time: “It’s not going to hold your weight, Navid.”

  “You’re lying,” Aron said.

  “Lying?” Navid asked. “How can I be lying? Don’t you know what a dare-pact is?”

  “Of course I do,” Aron said, crossly. Their childhood had been riddled with such pacts, and the rules were well known, but usually the dares were harmless pranks, not something that could get someone killed.

  “But I’m not going to risk my neck and then have you keep spreading your lies, Aron,” Navid said. “If I make it to the top, you’ll never talk about my family again. You have to swear it.”

  “Fine, I swear it,” Aron said, his eyes flicked to the coin, which Navid tucked safely back in his pocket. “But you’re never going to make it.”

  Navid pointed at the other boys. “You’re witnesses. He took an oath. And if he breaks it now, he’s a filthy liar.”

  Navid felt an absurd sense of relief, given the foolhardy thing he was about to attempt. But if he made it to the top, his family’s reputation was safe. Stepping to the edge of the trough, he hesitated at the sound of rovers in the distance.

  “The soldiers aren’t coming here,” Aron said impatiently. “It’s leftovers from East Ash. Come on, Navid, you said you had no equal. No one could run the city like you, remember? Let’s see it, then.”

  Navid felt a rush of shame for having spoken those very words, which sounded much worse when Aron repeated them back. He gingerly picked his way across the rubbish, but when he stepped onto the conveyer, the entire structure swayed dangerously. He took a few tentative steps up before a loud crack echoed between the buildings. Navid froze, but nothing crumbled under him. He glanced over his shoulder. Shaun was worried, but Aron had a twisted expression that could have been glee.

  As Navid moved cautiously up the teetering structure, he remembered the time a roof began collapsing under him in the butcher’s district near the harbor. He’d launched into a run as the boards crumbled behind him. He recognized the same give in the boards beneath his boots. There was no stability in the planks. He was basically walking up a spider web made of rotting timber. Already twenty feet above the cobblestones and there were no handholds or ledges to escape to. He decided it would be better to rush for the roof than crash down to the pavement from this height.